


crane your neck

by kosy



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Banter, Developing Relationship, F/F, Flirting, Making Out, Relationship Discussions, Season/Series 01, Secret Relationship, also mike and jaylen are friends yes i'm STILL talking about this, casual vandalism but it's cute, literally this is self-indulgent fluff that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27793411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kosy/pseuds/kosy
Summary: “I can’t believe you’re mocking me in my own field, from my own pitcher’s rubber,” she complains. “That’s gotta be against some law.”“No laws in blaseball, baby!” she beams, flipping the bat in the air and catching it. She looks unreasonably proud of herself for this, and Jaylen scoffs maybe a bit too fondly.
Relationships: Jaylen Hotdogfingers/Sutton Dreamy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	crane your neck

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you write deep, sprawling, meditative 20k character/relationship studies and sometimes you just write self-indulgent wlw fluff. this is. very much the second one. 
> 
> content stuff: a fair amount of swearing and sexual references, but nothing actually happens.
> 
> title comes from the song of the same name by lady lamb. hope you guys enjoy!!

“Stop delaying the inevitable, you coward,” she hollers across the field, and for a second, Jaylen freezes, glances around nervously. Which she knows is way more incriminating than pretty much any other possible response to that, but the instinct is hard to fight. There’s nobody around to see her, though, obviously. The fans and the players all cleared out an hour or so back, give or take, or at least that’s what she’s hoping.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jaylen calls back after a long, tense pause, stepping out of the dugout into the cooler night air and heading to home plate. It’s weird to look at the stadium from a hitter’s perspective. Sutton’s already halfway across the field, bat slung over her shoulder, and even from here, Jaylen can see the swagger in her step, the tilt of her chin. The pitcher snorts, crossing her arms, and watches. 

“Take a guess,” Sutton says, stopping right on the pitching mound and leaning on her bat. 

Jaylen heaves out a sigh but can’t quite get rid of the smile tugging at her lips. “Would it by any chance be you being smug about—” 

“About hitting a home run off of you in the bottom of the tenth, bringing the Crabs up by just enough to win?” She grins. “Possibly.” 

“Oh, are we doing the posturing  _ now?” _ Jaylen laughs, scanning the stadium again without even meaning to. “Because—” 

“You scared we’re gonna get caught doing— _ what, _ exactly? Talking trash in an empty field? Stop the presses, everyone, two players from opposing teams are  _ bantering—”  _

“I can’t believe you’re mocking me in my own field, from my own pitcher’s rubber,” she complains. “That’s gotta be against some law.” 

“No laws in blaseball, baby!” she beams, flipping the bat in the air and catching it. She looks unreasonably proud of herself for this, and Jaylen scoffs maybe a bit too fondly. 

“I’ll get you next time. That’s a  _ promise.” _

She rolls her eyes and finally struts off the pitching mound toward her, swinging the bat back up to rest on her shoulder. “Sure you will, Jay.” 

“Zero point two six seven batting average, if I remember correctly,” Jaylen points out, which, okay, is maybe kind of shitty, but if anything it makes Sutton smile wider. 

“And  _ yet,” _ she says, “I  _ still _ remember managing to hit that homer. Wild how that happens, huh?”

“Yeah, wild,” she deadpans, and Sutton snickers. Smug is, much to Jaylen’s dismay, a good look on her. “In my defense, I wasn’t pitching at—full capacity.”

She arches her eyebrows. “‘Full capacity’?” 

“You know,” she tries, but Sutton keeps grinning at her, cat with the canary. “I wasn’t, like—oh, fuck  _ off,  _ you know what I’m saying.” 

“Well,  _ yes,” _ she says, like it’s obvious, like  _ Jaylen’s _ been obvious. And she’s always had a serious face, but by now Jaylen knows her well enough to recognize the way her mouth twitches when she’s trying not to smile, the little microexpressions that make their way through, so. She’s definitely enjoying this way too much. “But I wanted to hear you say it.” They’re face to face now, and when Jaylen tries to glance away so she doesn’t have to meet her eye, Sutton chuckles. 

“Fuck, fine, I was distracted,” she grumbles, relenting. “It’s not my fault you just wandered out onto the field wearing  _ fishnets _ under your jersey—” 

“I  _ always _ wear fishnets under my jersey!” she laughs. “It’s, like, my whole thing.” It kind of is. It’s not like Jaylen hadn’t noticed before. It’s impossible  _ not _ to notice. She just drifts around the field like that, shirt unbuttoned and tucked into the baggy blaseball pants that had to have been  _ designed _ not to look good on anybody but she manages to pull them off anyway. Because of course she does. 

Jaylen throws up her hands. “Look, do I need a  _ reason _ to think my girlfriend’s hot?” God, she can feel herself flushing. Horrible. 

“Guess not,” Sutton relents, a tiny self-satisfied smile curling her lips up at the edges. 

“Glad we’re in agreement,” she says wryly, and Sutton rolls her eyes again, smile widening. “Wanna get outta here?” 

She snorts. “What, just like that?” 

“I feel like the three hour long game counts as foreplay.” 

“Wow. You really know how to make a girl feel special, Jay.” 

“I didn’t say it  _ was _ the foreplay, I said it  _ counts as  _ foreplay. Though I’m kinda hurt that you’d even assume—” 

“Well. Sorry if I wasn’t overwhelmed by the sexual energy of you failing to strike me out for three hours.” 

Jaylen laughs in spite of herself. “Is that the plan for the rest of the night? I flirt and you make fun of me for it?” 

“As long as you keep saying dumb shit? Absolutely.” She pauses, then raises an eyebrow. “Unless you have a problem with—?” 

“Nope! No, you’re good.” She clears her throat. “So anyway—” 

“Right! Right, yeah.” Sutton leans back on her heels. “Where’d you wanna go again?” 

“My apartment’s, like, a half hour walk from here, give or take?” 

She makes a dissatisfied noise. “And we can’t take the bus?” 

“I mean, okay, we technically could, but trust me: Seattle’s night bus routes are bullshit. And I’m not calling an Uber at 2 AM.” 

Heavy sigh. “Fine.” 

“It’s a nice walk,” Jaylen tries. “Seriously. There aren’t as many people out on the road. Not as loud.” She loves the crowds, loves the noise, but she’s not totally oblivious; she sees how Sutton’s shoulders hunch against the onslaught of sound even when it’s the fans roaring their approval from the stands. Plus, it’s nice to just walk under the streetlights in relative stillness. Neither of them get a lot of that these days. 

“Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me,” she concedes, and she stretches out a hand between the two of them, looks to Jaylen expectantly. She hesitates only a moment before taking it, and Sutton grins. “See? The world didn’t even end.”

“You’ve jinxed it,” Jaylen complains, grinning anyway. “We’re gonna walk outta here and the paparazzi’s gonna fuckin’ descend like the vultures they are—” 

“No they aren’t,” Sutton says, plain and calm, and somehow that’s good enough for Jaylen. She nods, anything else she might’ve said suddenly stuck in her throat, and follows Sutton out of the stadium. 

It’s dark outside the Big Garage even with the streetlamps illuminating the massive empty parking lot. She turns to look back at the stadium. She’s inexplicably fond of the whole place, even if it’s just a vast, ugly expanse of concrete with some grass in the middle. Too many memories not to be, she figures. She watched the stadium get built all through college, came here to smoke with Mike, spent God knows how many hours practicing here with the team, pitched her first real game inside its walls. She hopes it stands for a while. Not as a monument to anything in particular but itself.

“Hey,” she says before she even realizes she wants to speak. “C’mere.” 

Sutton stops, turns to face her. “Yeah?” 

“C’mere,” she repeats, tugging gently at her hand, and she goes into her arms easily, a lopsided smile on her face, and rests her other hand on her arm.

“Are you done sulking?” she asks.

“I was never sulking,” Jaylen says, grinning. 

“You were sulking,” Sutton tells her. “It was hilarious.” 

“You can’t prove it. You done being smug?” 

She laughs. “Oh, never.”

“Well. I guess I can’t complain,” Jaylen says, running her thumb over Sutton’s knuckles, and then kisses her because she’s tired of not doing that. Sutton leans into her immediately, moves the hand from Jaylen’s arm to wind fingers into her hair and tug lightly. Jaylen sighs against her lips, and she can feel her smile back, self-satisfied. 

“Took you forever to do that,” she whispers, hovering barely a breath away, eyes still closed. Jaylen doesn’t bother to reply, just rolls her eyes and pulls her back in with a hand on her jaw. Sutton would have to go up on tiptoes to be on her level, but she never does, always drags Jaylen down by the neck or with a hand at the back of her skull instead, or makes her bend down to reach her lips. The most she’ll relent is an upward tilt of the chin. 

Faintly, she’s aware of her spine pressed firm against the Big Garage’s concrete walls. The stadium lights flickering off inside, the cool glow of the streetlights on her closed eyes outside. It’s never really quiet in the city, it’s never really quiet anywhere, but it’s quiet enough to hear the soft noises Sutton is making into her mouth, quiet enough to hear the rustle of fabric as she pushes up the edge of Jaylen’s t-shirt enough to skim her hand up over her ribs, fingers catching in the small divots between the bone. Hands warm in the Seattle night. It’s ever-cool in her city, even in the height of July. 

She shifts, trails her lips down to Sutton’s neck, the sharp curve of her jaw. “You played a good game,” she murmurs.

“Thanks,” she says, laughing breathlessly, palm cupping the back of Jaylen’s head to keep her close. Like she’d move away for anything. “I’d say you played a good game too, but—” Jaylen scrapes teeth along Sutton’s pulse point just sharp enough to be really felt, and whatever she might’ve said turns into a bitten-off gasp. She grins into her neck and Sutton laughs again, scratches her nails over Jaylen’s scalp affectionately before tugging at her hair again. “Come  _ back,” _ she demands, petulant, and Jaylen does so, pressing a barely-there kiss to her cheek before tipping her head to recapture her lips. Sutton makes a quiet noise of satisfaction, leans further into her, hand trailing down to splay over Jaylen’s hip.

It’s been a long time since Jaylen’s felt high on something like this, something so basic and necessary and all-encompassing, and she drinks it in for all it’s worth, tongue and teeth and slick mouth. It feels a little like desperation or maybe the start of something bigger, something that can’t fit in her lungs or her hands, so she tries not to think about it at all. Winds an arm around Sutton’s waist and pulls her in closer, bites at her bottom lip and revels in the shuddery exhaled  _ Jay,  _ the way her fingers curl tighter into her hair. 

“Yeah?” she asks, more breath than question. 

She clears her throat. “I’ve decided I don’t care about how long the walk is. We should go back to your place now.”    


All the breath rushes out of her. “Yes—God, I—” Then Jaylen groans. “Wait.” 

Sutton pulls back to look at her, expression guarded. “...What’s wrong?” 

She lets her head thunk back against the concrete. “Fuckin’—I just remembered  _ Mike’s _ probably there.” 

“You’re kidding,” she says. 

“No, he’s my roommate, remember?” 

“Of course I remember, but— _ seriously? Tonight?  _ From the way you were talking, I assumed he wasn’t home.”

She snorts. “I mean, it’s his apartment too. He lives there. It’s not, like… a surprise. I dunno, I forgot.” 

“Kick him out,” Sutton suggests. 

“I would, but he’s definitely got too much dirt on me by now.” 

“Kill him then,” she replies flatly, then lets out a long breath and slumps against Jaylen’s chest, face pressed into her neck. “Alright. Fine.” 

“Can’t believe I’m getting cockblocked by Mike Townsend of all people _ again,”  _ Jaylen mutters. 

She laughs. “How often has this shit even  _ happened,  _ Jay?”

“Not as often as you’d think, but way more than I’d like. I need my own fuckin’ apartment.” 

“Well,” Sutton says after a slightly-too-long beat, “There’s always mine.”

“You live in Baltimore,” she points out. She almost adds  _ and we are currently in Seattle, soooo _ but wisely reconsiders. 

“I meant in a more general sense, babe.” Sutton pauses again, and Jaylen can’t see her face but she can feel the tension in the muscles of her back under her palm. 

“Oh,” Jaylen says, then, _ “oh. _ I, uh—” 

“Forget I said anything,” she mutters. “Look, Jaylen—”

“No, it’s fine,” she hurries to interrupt, “Seriously, it’s not a big deal, I was only—” 

“It wasn’t anything.” She’s pulling away now, mouth drawn into a thin line. “We don’t have to talk about it.”    


“We can talk about it!” she insists, and Sutton rolls her eyes, drops her hands from Jaylen’s hair and hip. She hates herself for missing them already. 

“You don’t want to, though.” 

“Not really,” she tells her honestly, knowing it’s the wrong thing to say before it even leaves her mouth. Sure enough, Sutton’s face hardens, and Jaylen quickly adds, “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t.” 

“Is there even anything to talk about?” she asks, and Jaylen doesn’t say anything. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question. I know how I feel about it, and I think I know how you feel about it, and I don’t see either of us budging.” 

“Well. Yeah,” she admits. “I’m not gonna argue that.” 

“Thank you.” 

_ “But,” _ she continues, pushing herself fully upright, “I still think all this—” She waves a hand at the situation as a whole, “—is probably something we should talk about anyway. Just to, like, say it aloud.” 

She crosses her arms, shifts her weight back. “Fine. Why are you so opposed to telling Mike?”

“It’s not the telling him I’m opposed to, it’s the idea of having sex while the dude I’ve known since middle school is in the other room.” 

“We can be quiet,” Sutton mumbles. 

She snickers. “Not likely.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” she snaps, but at least she’s cracked a smile. 

Jaylen takes a deep breath. “And as for the apartment in general—” 

“You aren’t ready yet,” she finishes for her. The smile has turned sad and just a little bitter. “I know.” 

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Sutton, I—” 

“It’s okay. I’m not saying we should move in together. It’s only been a few months, and it isn’t like either of us are home much anyway. All I’m saying is this isn’t…” She gestures helplessly. “I can’t force you to be ready, Jay.” Jaylen wants to ask  _ ready for what?  _ but it doesn’t really matter what exactly Sutton means by  _ ready. _ Ready for any of this, probably. Ready for real commitment. Ready for calling Sutton her girlfriend in front of other people without thinking about it. Ready for anything more serious than making out in the shadows of an empty blaseball stadium. 

“I know,” she says, knowing the words are useless. She opens her mouth to say something else, but what is there to say? The conversation ends here. Jaylen can’t offer her anything more. 

“Okay. Then here we are again.” They look at each other, then, for several long moments. Nothing else to do. 

“Hey,” Jaylen tries then, as soft as she can manage. She’s out of practice. Doesn’t do soft a lot. “I don’t wanna brush you off, but. Just for tonight, can we…?” 

Sutton’s lips quirk sideways. “What, not fight?” 

“Yeah,” she says, returning a weary smile. “Trust me, okay? I want to be ready. I do. And I don’t want to ask you to wait for me because that’s not fair, but I can’t…” She trails off. “I want one thing that’s just mine. Just ours. That’s all.” 

Finally, Sutton slips her hand into Jaylen’s, laces their fingers together carefully, and she breathes out slow. “It’s okay,” she says, and Jaylen almost believes her. 

“We good?” 

After a few seconds, Sutton nods decisively. “Yes. We’re good.” Jaylen appreciates the pause, actually, however tense. Appreciates that Sutton thinks about what she’s saying instead of just agreeing blindly because she thinks it’s what Jaylen wants to hear. 

“Cool,” she says, allowing herself to fully smile again. She wants so badly for this to be  _ easy, _ and she can see the exact moment that Sutton realizes she wants that too, watches her eyes soften as she looks down at their intertwined fingers. 

“Cool,” she echoes, and a shadow of the teasing grin from earlier reappears. “Hey, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

“I _ guess,” _ Jaylen grumbles, but any mock-exasperation is lost in the laughter behind her voice. “I mean, I’ll live.” 

“Very brave of you,” she says dryly. 

“Thanks for recognizing my sacrifice.” 

“Mm. So, what’s the plan for the rest of the night?” 

She shrugs. “There isn’t one. We can hang out here, if you want. Or, like, I think there’s a 24 hour diner a few blocks from here. I don’t think you wanna deal with trying to sneak me into your hotel room.” Not like they need sleep anymore. She noticed that back at the beginning the season. Nobody brings it up, but she knows Mike’s stayed up four days straight working on a song and barely seemed affected. Sure, his pitching had been shitty when it was his turn in the rotation, but that wasn’t anything new. 

Sutton wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. No. I’m sharing the room anyway. With Parra.” 

“Yeah, figures.” Takes a moment to think. “Have you ever considered that maybe the universe just hates us?” 

“It is beginning to look like that might be the case, yes.” Sutton sighs. “Then I suppose we…” 

“Stay here?” Jaylen suggests. 

She half-smiles. “What, for the rest of the night?” 

“Unless you’ve got a better idea. Which I don’t think—” 

“No, I don’t,” she confirms, begrudging. “Alright then.” 

Jaylen lets herself relax back against the concrete again. “Where’re you headed after this?” 

“Um. Chicago? I think?” She lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter. I already know how it’ll go. We’ll lose at least two out of the three games, and Tillman will pretend he’s not sneaking off to make out with Declan Suzanne in the back of his pickup afterwards, and  _ we’ll _ all pretend we don’t notice because frankly we’d prefer not to think about Tillman running any bases other than the literal ones, and Combs will make everyone wake up early every day. As if an extra hour of warm-up time will change the fact that our lineup’s collective batting average is essentially in the negatives. You?” 

She laughs. “Oh, I have no idea where I’m going next. I don’t pitch for another four days anyway. I’m just along for the ride.” 

“Right, right, I forgot you don’t have a real job.” 

“Pitching is totally a real job!” Jaylen says indignantly, and Sutton just laughs at her, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “It’s not just  _ throw blaseball fast, _ okay, there’s an  _ art _ to it. There’s a  _ science.”  _

She nods seriously. “Yes. Of course. An art and a science you do for an average of three hours once every five days. Exactly like in every real job.” 

“Oh shut  _ up, _ you know there’s more to it than that,” Jaylen protests, trying not to sound like she’s whining and succeeding maybe 60% of the way. 

“Of course.”

“You’re the worst,” she says, the effect heavily undercut by how much she’s grinning. 

“Ah, you love it.” 

“Well. Yeah. Obviously.” 

They allow themselves to fall into a comfortable silence, Sutton rocking forward to lean against her again, and Jaylen wraps her arms around her and for once they don’t do anything at all. Cars are passing in the streets somewhere far away from them. The streetlights flicker over the parking lot, a warm orange glow against the night. The wall of the stadium is cold against her back. 

“You still have your knife on you?” Jaylen asks, and Sutton stirs, face still pressed into Jaylen’s collarbone. 

“Hm?” she mumbles. 

“Your knife. Do you have it on you?”

She yawns. “Yeah, ‘course I… Hang on.” She pushes herself upright and fishes around in the pockets of her pants, then pulls out the pocketknife and holds it out to her. “Why?” 

“Just, um.” Jaylen takes the knife and flicks it open, and Sutton steps to the side, letting Jaylen’s free arm drop to loop around her waist as she turns to the wall, determined. 

Sutton tips her head to the side owlishly. “What are you doing?”

“Y’know,” Jaylen says, “That’s a really good question,” and she digs the knife into the concrete. 

“Ah,” she says. “Would a Sharpie not be dramatic enough for you?” 

“Honestly? Didn’t even occur to me.” She scratches a rough  _ J _ into the wall, considers it, then goes over the lines again. She doesn’t want this wearing away anytime soon. “You think I should go first and last initials or just first?” 

“First and last for style. Also, if you make my knife go dull—” 

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ve got a sharpener back at my place. Mike gets super anal about our kitchen knives.” Carves out the  _ H _ quickly, then the  _ + _ underneath with two hard, decisive strokes. 

Sutton half-laughs, ducking her head. “Oh. I thought you were only doing your name.” 

She snorts. “How self-centered do you think I am? Actually. Don’t answer that.” She gets to work on the  _ S, _ which comes out jagged, more a jumble of intersecting lines than a smooth curve, but whatever. 

“I won’t,” Sutton says, but her tone’s subdued. 

Jaylen looks up from her handiwork for a moment, brow furrowed. “You alright?” 

“Yes,” she says, “I’m alright.” 

She just looks at her for another minute, head tilted, before slowly turning back to the wall. Suddenly self-conscious, she scratches  _ D _ quickly, then a heart around it all. 

“There you go,” Jaylen says too loudly and straightens up, hyperaware of the silence that’s fallen. “Hopefully it won’t wear away too soon.” 

She’s looking at the wall, arms folded, expression unreadable. “Aren’t you worried about someone recognizing the initials?” 

Jaylen shrugs. “There’s gotta be thousands of JHs and SDs in Seattle. Don’t think anyone’ll connect the dots and figure out it’s us specifically.” 

Plus, it’s not like they’re the only people carved into this concrete. There are hundreds of names, initials, words, quotes, and sketches here covering the outer walls of the stadium stretching on and up like an infinite, one-sided conversation. They’re just joining in. 

Sutton reaches out a hand and trails her fingers over the grooves in the wall, and she doesn’t say anything for a long time. 

“I’d like to go over them, actually,” she murmurs. Jaylen hesitates, and Sutton looks up, reaches out a hand. “The knife, please.” 

“Oh. Uh, okay.” She hands the knife back over hilt-first, and Sutton doesn’t pause before scraping the blade over the letters again, carving in deeper until they’re more gouges than they are scratches.  _ JH + SD. _

It should feel stupid. Juvenile. It’s the kind of shit Jaylen would do back in high school, pining after some pretty straight girl who wouldn’t give her the time of day in class but still make out with her at parties. It’s meaningless vandalism, the lamest possible act of rebellion. 

It  _ should _ feel stupid. It doesn’t. It feels so significant it aches. 

Jaylen watches Sutton go over the lines until she finally pulls back to survey her work then nods, satisfied, and pockets the knife, flicking it closed with her thumb. 

“Better?” Jaylen asks, and she realizes she’s been smiling. 

Sutton grins back. “Much.” 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!! if you wanna know my whole dreamy/jaylen Story, [boy have i got the 19.4k fic for you.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203971) you can find me @fourteenthidol on tumblr if you hang out there, and if you felt like leaving a kudos or comment here it'd really make my. day! <3


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